His Perfect Partner

‘Where are we going?’ Rachel’s voice was faint in comparison to his. She cleared her throat and added in stronger tones, ‘Is it far?’

‘Twenty kilometres or so, I believe.’ Jean-Luc’s response was polite but cool. ‘This area does not have a particularly good choice of restaurants.’

She followed him to his car—a different one from this afternoon, she realised, larger and even more impressive, if that were possible. The chauffeur removed himself from behind the steering-wheel and opened the rear door for Rachel with a brief smile.

Jean-Luc got in beside her. Rachel shifted her position so that she sat as far away as possible from him, and made a pretence of looking out of the window.

‘The windows need repainting, do they not?’ Rachel glanced across at Jean-Luc, sensing the mockery in his tone. ‘You must be sorry to see the place so run-down,’ he added.

‘It still has charm,’ Rachel replied stiffly. ‘It’s still my home.’

‘But for how much longer?’ He leant forward, indicating to the chauffeur that they should be on their way.

‘Isn’t all this…’ Rachel glanced around the plush interior, her gaze taking in the driver ahead ‘…a little…extreme?’

‘In what respect?’ Jean-Luc’s gaze was steady upon Rachel’s face.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She shook her blonde head and glanced out of the window again. ‘I just never imagined I’d see you riding around in a chauffeur-driven limousine, that’s all,’ she murmured.

‘You never imagined that you would see me again,’ Jean-Luc replied. ‘I can understand why this has come as something of a shock to you.’

‘Oh, you can, can you?’ Rachel surveyed his handsome face with narrowed blue eyes. ‘How clever you are!’

‘Rachel—’

‘Don’t! I’m not interested!’ She swallowed, struggling against a throat that was tight with unshed tears. ‘I’m only here because of the Grange. Nothing else! That’s all I’m interested in. Not how you became a success, or what you’ve been doing in the intervening years. Only the Grange.’ She hardened her expression, turning briefly to look into the face she had once loved so much. ‘Do you understand?’

He didn’t reply immediately, simply looked deep into her eyes, making her suffer with the intensity of his gaze—so provocative, so full of power and authority. ‘Oh, I understand,’ he murmured. ‘More than you would imagine.’

There was little Rachel wanted to say on their way to the restaurant. The silence wasn’t particularly comfortable or companionable, but Rachel was damned if she’d struggle to fill the emptiness which sat so uneasily between them.

As she might have expected, the restaurant—situated in the main street of a picturesque country town, small and elegantly decorated—was of a high standard. The car drew up outside and they were greeted in the manner to which Jean-Luc had so clearly become accustomed.

‘We’d like to order immediately.’ Jean-Luc told the waiter as he showed them to their table. He turned to Rachel. ‘You still like scallops, I take it?’ She nodded. ‘Wild mushrooms?’

‘Yes.’

He ordered for both of them in ten seconds flat, casting a cursory glance at the menu, choosing wine with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before.

‘I am capable of ordering for myself!’

‘You do not like the food I have chosen?’ He raised his arm to summon the waiter.

‘No, it’s fine!’ Rachel wished she had kept her mouth shut. She took a sip of mineral water and glanced around at her surroundings, anywhere except at Jean-Luc’s handsome face.

‘You have been here before?’

‘No.’

‘It has a good atmosphere, don’t you think? But the decor is a little…’

‘Insipid?’ Rachel murmured, automatically noting what she would do to improve things.

‘Yes.’ Jean-Luc nodded in agreement. ‘Exactly that. But we didn’t come here to discuss this restaurant’s decoration, did we? You will have given a great deal of thought to the future of the Grange over the past couple of weeks.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘You will lose it, you realise that?’

‘It seems a distinct possibility.’ Rachel worked hard at sounding as businesslike and as cool as possible. If Jean-Luc could do it, why couldn’t she? She continued to speak swiftly, refusing her brain time to conjure up a whole host of very good reasons. ‘Although I haven’t entirely given up hope that the bank will give me some more time,’ she continued.

‘You should.’ Dark eyes gazed penetratingly at her. ‘Give up hope,’ he added bluntly, when Rachel raised a brow in query. ‘The Grange is a lost cause—’

‘If that’s so, why are you here now, talking to me?’ Rachel cut in swiftly. ‘Why are you bothering?’

‘If you will allow me to finish…’ Jean-Luc paused, and took a sip of mineral water, increasing Rachel’s nervous anticipation with the length of his delay. Whether he did so for effect, to produce the biggest reaction, or simply because he was working out a way to frame his next sentence, Rachel wasn’t sure. ‘I believe,’ he asserted, ‘that the Grange would make an ideal high-class hotel, health resort and conference centre.’

She knew, even as half her brain railed against the idea, that Jean-Luc’s idea was viable. Her hotel and business acumen couldn’t be disregarded just because the Grange happened to be her home. She tried, though, she tried very hard to dispute it. ‘You are joking, surely?’ she replied.

‘Not at all.’ Ebony eyes held hers. ‘I never joke about business.’

‘You really think that’s the miracle plan that’s going to save the day?’ Rachel shook her blonde head, staring stubbornly down at the table so that Jean-Luc shouldn’t read her thoughts. Her mind was already assessing the possibilities, swiftly redesigning the interior to accommodate guest bedrooms and restaurants and leaping ahead to conference suites and leisure facilities.

‘I don’t remember mentioning miracles,’ Jean-Luc responded crisply, ‘just a business proposition that would be beneficial to both of us.’

‘You honestly think I could consider such a proposal?’ Rachel’s voice was tinged with half-hearted disbelief. ‘That I would want to enter into some sort of partnership with you?’

‘You know, Rachel…’ Jean-Luc lifted his glass and took a mouthful of wine ‘…that my proposition is the only thing capable of getting you out of this mess. I know you do—I can see it in your eyes.’

‘Can you, indeed?’ Rachel said through gritted teeth. ‘How clever of you!’

He raised a dark brow, his gaze steady and unflinching. ‘You’re not interested?’

‘There’s got to be another way!’ Rachel asserted. ‘How can you sit there and tell me that the best thing would be to turn the Grange into a huge hotel? It’s my home!’

‘Not for very much longer!’ Jean-Luc’s voice was clipped. ‘You know as well as I do that the Grange, in its present condition with all of its natural assets, is an ideal site—’

‘It isn’t a “site”, as you so callously call it,’ Rachel cut in. She gulped a breath. ‘I’ve lived there ever since my parents were killed—’

‘And now dear Aunt Clara is dead and the Grange is your responsibility! You were orphaned at a young age—that is tragic. Car accidents are tragic, death is tragic.’ He lifted his broad shoulders in, it seemed to Rachel, an uncaring shrug. ‘So is bankruptcy.’

Rachel pushed her plate aside. The mushrooms were good, but suddenly she had no stomach for them. She loved her work. The excitement and challenge of managing a hotel from day to day, when just about anything could happen and often did, gave her more satisfaction than she could say, but this shocking idea, that somehow she and Jean-Luc should have a shared interest—and in the Grange of all places—was difficult to contemplate. She shook her head again. ‘I cannot imagine a worse scenario!’

‘Except, perhaps, the one where you sack Naomi and the rest of the staff, pack up, move out and hand over the keys of the Grange to the bank?’ Jean-Luc picked up his wine glass. ‘You find that particular course of action more acceptable, do you?’ There was a tense silence. ‘Are you so naïve?’ Jean-Luc continued remorselessly. ‘What do you imagine the bank will do once they take possession?’

Rachel glanced down at her lap, avoiding his penetrating gaze. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead.’

‘Well, it’s time you did! They’ll sell to the highest bidder. They won’t be concerned whether it’s split up into apartments or turned into the biggest conference centre in Europe!’

‘I haven’t lost it yet!’ Rachel persisted stubbornly. ‘There’s still time.’

‘There’s no time. Your aunt used up all the time and left you with nothing but debts,’ Jean-Luc informed her brutally. ‘You will be left with nothing.’

‘So, why do you care?’

Why, indeed? But he did—more than he cared to admit.

He looked at her, cold and hard and formidable. ‘I don’t. I have been looking for suitable properties in this area for some time. In fact, I was about to close a deal when I heard of your aunt’s death and subsequent problems.’

‘Oh! So…so your predatory instincts took over! How extremely fortuitous that the Grange got into difficulties when it did!’ Rachel replied unsteadily. ‘I’m sure your shareholders are going to be very impressed at such easy pickings!’

‘I have no shareholders,’ Jean-Luc informed her with a cold expression. ‘I own the company lock, stock and barrel.’

‘Oh, well, even better!’ Rachel continued scathingly. ‘Think of all those profits just for yourself—you’ll be a millionaire in no time!’

‘I already am one!’ The terse statement came as he pushed back his chair and rose from the table, throwing his napkin onto the plate in front of him in disgust. ‘I’m not prepared to put up with this. It’s clear from your behaviour that you’re not capable of taking my proposition seriously. That is your mistake and you will have to live with the consequences.’

Rachel stared up at him in horror. ‘You’re leaving?’ she asked. ‘Just like that?’

‘I see no reason to stay. You’re clearly not interested in anything I have to say.’

Angry, tense, annoyed with himself at not being able to stay cool, he walked away, threading his broad frame through the tables of the restaurant.

Rachel sat for a moment, watching him go, stunned by his sudden departure. She didn’t know what to do. She could barely think straight. Jean-Luc’s words haunted her. Did she really want to lose the Grange? Did it honestly mean so little to her? She rose from the table, glancing at the other diners who, she realised belatedly, had been enjoying the cabaret, and followed Jean-Luc outside.

Rachel stood hesitatingly in the entrance to the restaurant, glad of the cooling night air on her heated skin.

What was she to do? How was she supposed to cope with this nightmare situation? He didn’t care, that much was clear. He had said it, and she believed him. His only thought was to strike a deal, to make money.

Jean-Luc’s first emotion was relief because there was always a risk in pushing too hard, and she might so easily have decided to go with her true instincts and reject everything, without giving a damn for the consequences.

‘You’d like a lift home?’

Rachel spun around at the sound of his voice. She looked up, and felt the immediate lurch of awareness deep down in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him. ‘I’d like to talk about the Grange,’ she murmured.

He pushed a little harder. ‘I think we’ve said all there is to say.’

‘No.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘No, we haven’t.’ She paused. ‘Maybe…maybe I was a little hasty just now…’

‘Maybe?’ His dark eyes pierced her.

‘Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?’ Rachel murmured. ‘I don’t particularly want to go back into the restaurant.’

‘My car?’

‘You have a chauffeur,’ Rachel reminded him.

‘Emile can go get himself something to eat.’ Jean-Luc placed a guiding hand at the small of her back. ‘This way. Would you like something to drink?’ He pulled open a cabinet, once the chauffeur had been temporarily relieved of his duty and they were both installed in the back of the Rolls Royce. ‘Vodka? Martini?’

‘Just mineral water for me, please.’

Jean-Luc’s smile held precious little humour. ‘So that you can keep a clear head?’

‘It makes sense, in the circumstances,’ Rachel responded smoothly.

As far as business propositions were concerned, it was well thought-out and covered all the angles. The gist of Jean-Luc’s proposal was that his company would pay off all the outstanding debts, agree to invest a substantial amount of money in the Grange and take the bulk of any profits in return.

‘So, where do I fit in?’ Rachel enquired eventually. It had been difficult to concentrate on much of the detail because as Jean-Luc had talked she had found her attention wandering away from the business of the house and estate towards more…immediate matters. He looked so…incredible. More mature, more compelling…more everything.

Usually so good at concentrating on business matters, Rachel’s eyes had wandered as he spoke, drifting away from his mouth across the broad chest, down the length of his long, muscular legs, clad in dark trousers, then back to his face once again. It wasn’t fair that he could still do this her, she thought, that it still mattered after all these years….

Rachel cursed silently, and dragged herself back to the important discussion in hand. ‘I agree it all sounds perfectly feasible,’ she continued in businesslike tones. ‘The market’s there—this area could do with a top-notch hotel and the layout of the Grange is, to a large extent, custom-made as far as the main features are concerned, but—’

‘You don’t seem to have paid a great deal of attention,’ he replied coolly, his dark eyes meeting hers. ‘I thought I’d made your involvement perfectly clear.’

‘Evidently not clear enough!’ Rachel retorted, annoyed by his superior tone and embarrassed by her previous inability to concentrate.

‘I want you to run the hotel,’ he informed her. ‘That will be one of the conditions that I will insist upon.’

‘What?’ Rachel stared at him, her blue eyes wide with shock. ‘Me?’

‘I don’t see anyone else in the near vicinity.’ Jean-Luc’s tone was dry. ‘You are the obvious choice. You have been in the hotel business for the last few years, have you not?’

Rachel frowned. ‘You know about that?’

‘I know all the relevant details which might have some bearing on this investment.’ His gaze was direct. ‘You imagined that you would be able to lounge around in glamorous idleness while I wasted unnecessary money employing someone to—’

‘I do not lounge around! I have never lounged around!’ Rachel stormed. ‘I work.’

‘You are currently managing a small hotel in the Cotswolds, I believe? It will be easy enough for you to work through your notice while the Grange is being refurbished. I do not know why you are looking at me like that,’ he commented smoothly. ‘It seems an eminently suitable arrangement. The Grange will still be your home, after all, and as you already have suitable experience in the hotel profession this will give you something worthwhile to direct your energies to.

‘You will have help of course,’ he added. ‘I already have in mind an employee who will suit the position of assistant manager. He is efficient, reliable, English…’ a flicker of a smile ‘…but I try not to hold that against him.’

‘You’re pleased that this has happened, aren’t you?’ Rachel declared shakily. ‘You’re not really interested in turning this into a profitable business. You just want to…to humiliate me!’

‘I’m saving your family home and offering you a job into the bargain—I don’t see where humiliation comes into it!’ he replied crisply. ‘Now, I suggest you drop the pathetic accusations and stop wasting time! I will have my solicitor draw up an agreement, which you will find fair—not to mention generous. Tomorrow afternoon you can sign and then everything will be able to proceed without delay.’

‘I don’t actually recall hearing myself agreeing to any of this!’ Rachel snapped.

‘But you will.’ Jean-Luc’s gaze was compelling as he turned to look at her. ‘Won’t you?’

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